


Pining At The Panto

by Scarshavestories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Actually References, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious, Pining, pantomime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarshavestories/pseuds/Scarshavestories
Summary: Albus has been pining after his best friend Scorpius for years, but in the midst of all the festivities, one phrase sticks out: at Christmas you tell the truth. It’s time for Albus to finally end this - one way or another, his secret will not be secret much longer - he can only hope Scorpius will still be his friend once he knows.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 167





	Pining At The Panto

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!  
> Thank you masses to Andithiel for betaing and cheerleading this and to BookofSpells for giving it a final once over, I love you both!!! ❤️❤️❤️

“HE’S BEHIND YOU!” the audience roared, but Albus’ ears were focused in on one voice; the gleeful cry of his best friend, Scorpius. 

The pure, uninhibited joy written across Scorpius’ face was breathtaking. He glanced at Albus and grinned when their eyes met, which made Albus’ insides flip pleasantly. He dragged his eyes back to the stage, hoping he wasn’t blushing. 

He’d thought Scorpius would enjoy the pantomime, but hadn’t anticipated just how enthralled he would be by the brightly coloured show. 

At one point, roughly seventeen minutes ago, the villain had suddenly jumped out into centre stage from out of sight, and Scorpius had actually screamed and  _ grabbed Albus’ hand.  _ After the surprise and shock had worn off, Albus had been left halfway between ecstasy at the feeling of Scorpius’ hand still gently holding his, and a fun mix of panic and fear that his hand was becoming sweaty, and that Scorpius would realise what he was doing and drop Albus’ hand (and his heart) in disgust. 

Albus had no idea what happened in the rest of the play. He spent the entire time intensely focused on every little action Scorpius made, and trying desperately to look like he was completely nonchalant and casual. When eventually the actors took their bows and Scorpius stood up, enthusiastically clapping his hands in a standing ovation, Albus tried to smack his own hands together hard enough that he stopped feeling the loss of that wonderful, electric,  _ terrifying  _ contact. 

Scorpius chattered happily about the show as they spilled out of the theatre onto the streets of London, content to fill the silence as usual, thankfully not expecting Albus to interject with his own critique. 

As they weaved through the crowded streets, Albus let his arm hang loosely between them, secretly hoping that Scorpius would take his hand again. Of course, he didn’t. Part of Albus wanted to believe that it was because he was too busy gesturing as he described different elements of the show, but deep down Albus knew that wasn’t the truth. The sooner he accepted that Scorpius simply didn’t feel the same, the better. He needed to start getting over him; holding on to the flicker of hope and living in denial was only prolonging his anguish. 

The streets were littered with people, but Albus simply let them bustle past him like water off a duck’s back. Scorpius’ excitement was catching, and Albus found himself seeing all the lights strung up around the streets through his friend’s eyes, making them as impressive as they had been when he was a child. It gave him an amazing tingle of festivity - though that could have had more to do with his inconvenient attraction to Scorpius than London’s Christmas decorations. 

Before they knew it, they’d reached the Leaky Cauldron, and soon they were stumbling out of the Floo into the living room of the flat they’d shared since they’d left Hogwarts. Scorpius threw himself at Albus as he was dusting off, and once again Albus had to swallow his disappointment as he realised it was an entirely platonic “thank you for introducing me to the concept of pantomimes” hug, rather than the declaration of undying love Albus wished were possible. 

A flurry of teeth-brushing and changing later and Albus was back in his usual position: staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answer to what he’d done so badly in his past life (or even in this life, for that matter) which had made him deserve to suffer the absolute agony of loving someone who would never reciprocate. Every little thing Scorpius did made him like him that bit more, and the feelings were showing no sign of simply running their course and fizzling out over time as he’d initially hoped they would, all those years ago when they’d first reared their ugly head. 

Sighing, Albus turned over and tried to push all thoughts of his hopeless love life out of his mind. There was nothing that could be done, and he’d go mad if he allowed himself to dwell on it further. 

Unsurprisingly, Albus didn’t get very much sleep, so when he stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, bleary eyed and caffeine starved, the sheer energy Scorpius was emitting should have irritated him. It certainly would have if it’d been James bouncing around at the crack of dawn, but it wasn’t his dumbass brother, it was Scorpius. Adorable, soft, beautifully sleep ruffled Scorpius, humming away as he cooked them both breakfast. Albus’ insides melted to a gooey mess, and he was powerless to do anything but stand there, basking in the sunshine that was Scorpius, or maybe dazzled by his brightness, depending on which way you looked at it. 

“Albus! You’re up!” Scorpius grinned. Albus realised he’d been staring and hastily shuffled into the room. “Tea should be just about brewed now, are you awake enough to pour it?” 

Rolling his eyes at the tease, Albus carefully prepared the tea, adding just the right amount of milk for Scorpius and an extra splash to his own.

Taking his own mug between his hands and sitting at the table, Albus contemplated his life while listening to Scorpius’ rendition of a tune he vaguely recognised but couldn’t quite name. In the grand scheme of things, Albus was extraordinarily lucky. He got to live with the man he loved and experience moments like this, little pockets of domestic bliss when he saw Scorpius with his defences down, and he got to be best friends with him, too. Really, Albus should be grateful; most people didn’t get any of this. 

The niggling voice in the back of Albus’ head reminded him that this was all temporary, that one day Scorpius would find a girlfriend and Albus would have to conceal his jealousy as these moments became hers, before eventually Scorpius moved out and got married and had children, and Albus would slowly fade out of his life. 

“What’s wrong?” Scorpius’ voice startled Albus out of his spiralling thoughts. He looked up to find Scorpius’ eyebrows furrowed in concern as he placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“What? Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” Albus assured, the voice in his head adding ‘ _ except I’m in love with you and dreading the day you start dating because it’ll shatter my heart into four thousand pieces’. _

“Oh. OK. You just looked a bit… angry?” It was absolutely clear Scorpius wasn’t going to drop it; he knew Albus too well to believe it was truly nothing. Albus frantically tried to think of something to say, his eyes darting about the kitchen as he searched for inspiration. 

“I was just remembering a dream I had. A dream about… a teapot! Yes. A giant teapot. And I wasn’t allowed to drink the tea.” 

Scorpius’ gorgeous laugh bubbled out of him, and he shook his head fondly. “Only you could get so worked up about imaginary tea!” 

“Hmph. I have real tea right now though, so all good. Thanks for brekkie!” Albus tucked into the food, letting out a groan at how incredible it tasted. 

Scorpius choked on his own mouthful of tea, which made his cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink. “No...prob-lem,” he spluttered, “thank-thank you for taking me to the panto last night. I still can’t believe that woman was actually a man! And all the  _ glitter _ !” 

Albus rolled his eyes and interjected “it’s called drag,” before allowing Scorpius to continue with a very similar stream of praise for the show to the one he’d heard the previous night. Somewhere between the excitement over audience participation (a part Albus usually vehemently detested) and an off-key attempt at remembering the songs, Scorpius asked, “can we go again tonight?” His eyes were bright and hopeful, and Albus very nearly said yes to please him. Sadly, that wasn’t an option though. 

“No, I’m sorry. I was lucky to get those tickets, normally pantomimes book up well in advance.” 

Scorpius crumpled like a popped balloon, and so did Albus’ heart at the sight. He took a sip of tea in an attempt to fill the void that had just opened up in his chest. It didn’t help. 

A second later, Scorpius spoke again, albeit with slightly less gusto than before. “Well, it was fabulous seeing it! Muggles do have the most incredible traditions!” And with that, he began his steady monologue once again. 

Only half-listening to Scorpius’ soft but enthusiastic tones, Albus wracked his brain for other Muggle Christmas traditions that Hermione had introduced them to when he was younger. Of course, it had always been Albus’ dad who most appreciated and enjoyed being able to take part in them, having been denied the chance as a child, but the memories of his father’s happiness gave the traditions a particularly special place in Albus’ heart, too. A lot of them involved too many people, too much preparation, or were only done on Christmas Day itself, so they were no good for making Scorpius happy again, but Albus figured he could investigate where and when a Carol Concert would be held, and then there was his own personal favourite tradition: Christmas films. 

“Hey, Scor.” Albus cut into a description of the UV light effect used in the second half, and immediately Scorpius stopped talking, his face open and eager to hear Albus, as it always was. He was the only one who seemed to actually listen to Albus and  _ value _ his words. “You know how we went to see that Batman film?” 

Scorpius’ whole face lit up, making him look like an adorable version of the angel at the top of the Christmas tree. “The one with all the Muggle magic?” he asked, and his face broke into a smile when Albus nodded. 

“Yeah, that film. There are festive films too, we could see if any cinemas are showing any tonight?” 

Scorpius clapped his hands together, knocking the spoonful of porridge that had been halfway to his mouth and making a huge blob of it fall onto his pyjama top, smearing it with sticky oaty mess, but in his excitement, he didn’t appear to care. 

Seeing his reaction, Albus immediately felt guilty that he hadn’t suggested they go to more films since the one in the summer, knowing how much his best friend had enjoyed it. In truth, he was nervous about going again because after the first one, his family had mercilessly teased him that it was a date, and Albus couldn’t really deal with anyone verbalising the concept of him and Scorpius together. It hurt too much. 

There was too much magical interference in their flat for any Muggle technology to function, so Albus hurried out as soon as he was dressed, grabbing his phone on his way out. He’d forgotten to turn it back on again after the show the night before, and there were twelve messages from his family, the first alarmingly informing him that James was in hospital (again), but the final one confirming that it was nothing to worry about, he’d be fine after a blood replenishing potion and a lecture on flying safely. Albus groaned. His parents would no doubt have words with him for not responding, but that was tomorrow’s problem. 

Google told Albus that there was a couple of new films out, but he flicked through the reviews and nothing seemed to have anything more than three stars. Christmas was about classics and tradition, anyway. He didn’t want Scorpius’ first Christmas film to be some shoddy, half-arsed thing with terrible acting. 

He continued to scroll through the search results, and eventually found that both Home Alone and Love Actually were playing that evening, the former in one of the big museums, and the latter with live orchestra accompaniment. 

Albus considered the options. Scorpius loved history, so he would probably enjoy sitting amongst the artifacts to watch the show, but then again, he was also a big classical music fan, so he would be equally excited by the orchestra. 

He could go back and ask Scorpius, but that would mean coming back out again to book the tickets, which seemed a lot of faff when he’d like both, and so would Albus… although, thinking about it, there were a few moments in Home Alone that could surprise Scorpius, and he might grab Albus’ hand again… 

Albus physically shook himself. He shouldn’t be fantasising about the feel of Scorpius’ hand in his, and he certainly shouldn’t be trying to engineer situations so that he would get to experience that soft, gentle warmth again. Decision made, Albus bought a pair of eye-wateringly expensive seats for that evening’s showing of Love Actually. 

Scorpius threw his arms around Albus when he told him about the tickets, and went off for lunch with his father with a spring in his step and a breathtaking beam on his face. 

Albus locked himself in his bedroom to release some of his pent up frustration, then immediately felt guilty about what he’d imagined as he did so. And then, to make matters worse, his parents dropped in to see him unannounced and witnessed the mountain of washing up from breakfast that he hadn’t quite got round to doing yet, which only added fuel to the “are you looking after yourself, why didn’t you respond to those texts” fire. 

By the time he and Scorpius were bundling themselves up in coats and stepping out into the bitterly cold December night, Albus was stuck somewhere between thinking this day could not get any more awkward, and fearing that it most definitely could. Being secretly in love with your best friend and flatmate was exhausting; just minutes earlier Albus had almost suffered a cardiac arrest because Scorpius had come to ask him which top looked better, and casually stripped off the first, bearing his entire unfairly sexy chest with its gorgeous smattering of light hair to Albus, before he’d chucked the second one on. 

Thanks to Scorpius’ outfit indecision, they barely made it to their seats before the lights were dimming and the orchestra were picking up their instruments. Hugh Grant’s first line, about love not necessarily being dignified but always being there - even if only between friends, was somehow more poignant to Albus now, when he could feel the warm press of Scorpius’ thigh against his own where the seats were just a touch too small. 

Approximately ten minutes into the film, Albus realised that there were far more awkward, never going to happen, unrequited love situations in it than he had remembered. 

Unsurprisingly, he felt his stomach tie itself in a sickening knot when Alan Rickman told the American woman that her crush was obvious; he could imagine exactly how that would feel if he were to be told Scorpius knew he fancied him. 

And then there was the Keira Knightley story. That one ran almost too close to the bone for Albus to cope with it. He could picture the scene perfectly; him standing beside Scorpius and watching as he married some beautiful woman, putting everything into making it the most perfect day, all the while wishing that he was the one Scorpius wanted. He’d even wear the white dress, if that’s what it took, he was so pathetically in love, but he knew that no outfit could ever make him enough for the most incredible man to have ever walked the planet. 

It was at the point when Albus realised he could deeply empathise with an  _ eleven _ year old, who was also hopelessly in love with someone who was heaven and far too good for him, that Albus came to the conclusion that he was, in fact, completely and utterly screwed. 

Albus kept surreptitiously shooting looks at Scorpius, watching his reaction to the different plot lines, and delighting when something made his eyes sparkle, or his face break out into that wonderful uninhibited smile. 

At the moment the sleazy President approached the woman who accidentally swore a lot, Albus glanced at Scorpius, only to find him looking straight back at him. Humiliated at being caught in the act, Albus decided to keep his eyes on the screen for the rest of the film. His resolve lasted approximately 3 minutes and 26 seconds. Eventually, he compromised with his inner masochist, and vowed to only look at Scorpius once a scene. 

The film played on, and Albus had been right about one thing: there were no sudden surprises to make Scorpius reach out for him. He tried to find glee in the fact that he’d been right, but the disappointment far outweighed anything else. He could feel Scorpius’ presence beside him like a glowing fire on a winter’s night, but there was no hand holding or anything that could ever be considered non-platonic. 

Albus felt something tug deep within his soul when Andrew Lincoln held up his hand-written signs, the brave declaration of a love that could never be requited. The words struck a chord, and they reverberated around his brain like the beautiful symphonies the orchestra were playing. 

Later, as he closed the door to his bedroom, shutting himself into the private space where he didn’t need to hide anything, Albus considered those signs once more.  _ At Christmas you tell the truth _ . Guilt swirled through Albus’ veins at the very clear implication. The opposite of the truth is a lie, and Albus could never lie to Scorpius. But maybe, by concealing his true feelings and withholding a part of himself from him, Albus had in effect been lying to Scorpius for years. His mind was a mess of confusion and contradicting thoughts as he climbed into bed. 

Sleep didn’t come. The image of those signs had imprinted itself into his mind, and somehow his brain had supplied a second image, the memory of James laughing and calling him a coward when he was 6 and hadn’t wanted to go down the ‘death’ slide. The two things fused together in his mind, and slowly, as Albus lay fitfully dreading the rest of his life, a plan began to form. He had to end this. Clambering out of bed and casting the strongest warming charm he could against the chill of the night, Albus set to work. 

The next morning, Albus was up later than usual, having only nodded off in the early hours of the morning. Their breakfasts were already fully prepared, sat neatly on the kitchen table: a steaming mug of tea beside Albus’ plate, and a second mug held daintily between Scorpius’ hands as he smiled and set it back down at the sight of Albus in the doorway. 

Albus’ hands were shaking, and he was unable to respond to Scorpius’ cheerful greeting. He wouldn’t be so happy if he realised that this was no ordinary morning. Albus felt sick. He considered taking a calming sip of tea, but thought better of it. Not even tea would likely stay in the stormy sea that was his stomach right now. Taking a deep breath, Albus quickly darted into his seat, and locked his eyes onto the tablecloth. He was not a brave man, and this was going to take every ounce of courage he possessed; he couldn’t be expected to actually look at Scorpius’ handsome features as they turned down in disgust and dismay when Albus finally stopped hiding. 

“Albie? Are you ok? What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re about to go and test one of your uncle’s products?” 

Scorpius barely left a breath’s gap between the quickly fired questions, but for the first time ever, Albus blocked out the sound of his voice. He needed to stay focused if he was going to go through with this. Pushing his plate to the side, Albus’ fingers fumbled with the first card, dropping it, but he grabbed it back and flipped it so it was writing-side up, and then he pushed it silently across the table, leaving it directly in front of Scorpius, just above his plate. 

Albus waited a beat, allowing his best friend to read the words:  _ With any luck by next year, I’ll be going out with one of these guys… _

And then he pushed across the second card, one covered in cutouts from magazines of the more attractive Quidditch players and models. They weren’t a patch on Scorpius, but he’d gone with the least wretched of the bunch. 

His whole arm was trembling as he plucked card three from the pile. Scorpius probably recognised the words from the film, but if he hadn’t already understood, he would do soon. 

_ But for now, let me say  _

Scorpius hadn’t said a word since Albus had started placing the cards in front of him. Albus was too afraid to look up, so he kept his eyes down on the cards, and ploughed on. 

_ Without hope or agenda _

The pile was getting smaller and smaller, and they were getting dangerously close to the ones Albus had written his heart into, ready to be ripped to shreds when Scorpius read them. 

_ Just because it’s Christmas -  _

The only noise was the patter of raindrops on the windows, and the rustling of paper as Albus picked out card six. 

_ (And at Christmas you tell the truth) _

Telling the truth was rapidly losing the limited appeal it had originally held. Albus regretted everything, and he wished he had a time turner so he could go back and tell himself that this was a genuinely stupid plan, and that instead he should maybe consider letting Lily practice her hexes on him, as that would be less painful than this. He took a deep breath, and almost threw the first of the incriminating cards across the table, he moved it so fast. 

_ To me, you are perfect _

Scorpius hadn’t screamed or run away, yet. Maybe he had incorrectly interpreted that card as platonic affection. There would be no doubt after this next card though… 

_ And my wasted heart will love you  _

Scorpius audibly sucked in a breath, and Albus was tempted to look up. He wasn’t finished though, and he felt like he needed to see this through to the end, if Scorpius was allowing it. He decisively placed another card in front of him. 

_ Until you look like this…  _

There were only two cards left. He was nearly done. Albus had gone a little off-script with the next card, but Scorpius would hopefully find it funny, and maybe not hate him quite as much if he remembered they could share jokes and realised they could still be friends. He pushed the photo of Lucius Malfoy into Scorpius’ line of sight. 

He was right, Scorpius let out a slightly muffled snort, and Albus finally let himself breathe normally as he gave his best friend the last card, the one which simply read:  _ Merry Christmas  _

In the film, Andrew Lincoln gets a kiss, and he says ‘enough’, as if he’s finally able to close that door behind him and move on. But in the film, Keira Knightley doesn’t cry. Scorpius Malfoy’s face was streaked with tears, with more sliding down his cheeks from red rimmed eyes as Albus looked up at him. He’d hoped this would help, but the sight of that bright pink face and those wide eyes made every drop of blood in his body turn to stone cold regret. He hated himself for making Scorpius look like that. 

They stared at one another for a solid minute, Albus’ mind racing as fast as his pounding heart. He wanted to Disapparate into the darkest corner of the universe where no one would ever find him, he wanted to jump up and deny everything, he wanted to give his best friend a hug. But he did none of that. Instead, he sat paralysed by overwhelming fear, unable to drag his eyes away from the man he had so stupidly fallen head over heels in love with. 

Then, Scorpius swallowed, and Albus watched the bob of his Adam’s apple. When he met Scorpius’ eyes again, there was something so pleading in them, it made Albus hoarsely whisper, “I’m sorry.” 

Scorpius nodded, swallowed again, and then spoke in a quiet, emotional croak, “I don’t understand. You—” Scorpius’ voice broke, and so did the remnants of Albus’ already shattered heart. He’d well and truly messed this up. 

Albus waited as Scorpius took a deep breath, and scrunched his eyes and fists closed before rushing his words out so fast he tripped over half of them. 

“I don’t unders-stand. You go on—you go on d-dates all the time. With. With other. With people who aren’t—who aren’t me.” He said the ‘me’ slowly, but it almost sounded sad. 

Albus stared at him in confusion, watching him rub at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “What are you talking about?” 

Scorpius made a noise of frustration, then accusingly glared at Albus. “The dates! When you tell me you’re going for dinner with your family! I’m not stupid, I know you’re just trying to protect me because I’ve always failed dismally at hiding the way I feel.” 

Blood roared in Albus’ ears. What did Scorpius mean by  _ ‘the way I feel’ _ ? He had no time to respond, because Scorpius was standing up from the table, shaking violently - in anger or upset, Albus didn’t know. Maybe it was both. 

“I don’t know what this is, but I don’t need you to pretend to be into me out of pity, and I certainly don’t want to be just another willing body because you haven’t had any recently.” Scorpius’ tone was firm, even as the tears streamed down his face and his voice wobbled, up until his last words, which were barely audible: “I can’t.” 

Scorpius began to stride out of the room, and Albus’ shocked brain finally kicked in and caught up with everything Scorpius had just said. 

“No! Scorpius, wait!” He grabbed Scorpius’ sleeve, forcing him to stop. “I genuinely was going for dinner with my family, every single time. My family is huge, there’s always something.” 

Scorpius snorted harshly. “You’re often not back until midway through the next morning!” he shouted, pulling his arm out of Albus’ grip, and then he looked down at his feet and quietly said, “I thought we didn’t lie to each other.” 

Albus couldn’t bear to witness Scorpius’ obvious pain, but he was doing a useless job of explaining, and his panic was beginning to set in. “We don’t! Well. Not. Not like that. I feel like I’ve been lying to you for years because I never told you the… true nature of my feelings for you, but I’ve told you now. I meant every word on those cards.” Albus wanted to reach out for Scorpius, but he was still crunched in on himself in a defensive pose, so he settled for looking him straight in the eye. “I’m in love with you, Scorpius Malfoy, I have been for a long time.” 

Scorpius let out a strangled sound and collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor, and he began to sob in earnest. Albus felt like the bottom had fallen out of the earth. He had no clue what was going on, at all. Unable to do the right thing and leave the room to give Scorpius some privacy, Albus sat down beside him, with his back against the wall, and wiped his own face with his sleeve. He wasn’t sure when he’d started crying. 

He tentatively placed a hand on Scorpius’ back, and when he didn’t object, he began to gently rub circles, as he had the few other times that Scorpius had been overcome by emotion. Albus had never been the one to make him overwhelmed like this before, though. 

As they sat, Albus quietly spoke. “I’m so, so sorry, Scor. I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. I’m sorry. And… when I don’t come back until the morning… I genuinely am just with my family. It’s— there’s something about home, you know? Sleeping in my old room.” 

Scorpius lifted his head, his red streaked face and bloodshot eyes made Albus’ heart clench, but the sobbing had stopped, at least. 

When Scorpius didn’t say anything, Albus continued to talk, still drawing soft patterns on his back. “And Dad makes pancakes, if I stay for breakfast. Occasionally I’ll stay at the Burrow, too. If we’ve stayed up late, all the cousins messing around and trying to beat each other at Monopoly, no one can be bothered to go home, so we just crash there. And if we stay, my grandma bakes bread, and we get it fresh out of the oven for breakfast, and it’s still warm and all the butter melts into it and I—” he broke off at the sight of Scorpius’ lips quirking up. “What?” 

Scorpius shook his head, but he was still smiling, so it came across as fond. “Nothing, it’s just, now I believe you. You’ll do anything for good food.” 

Albus cracked a smile, too. “You know me too well.”

They grinned at each other for a moment, and Albus thought that they might just be alright, but then Scorpius’ smile faded and he looked down at where he was twisting his fingers nervously together. “You—” Albus had to strain his ears to hear Scorpius say, “you know that I love you too, right?” 

A symphony of angels broke into an ecstatic chorus inside Albus’ mind. It was as if a shining star was beaming down and illuminating his entire body from the inside out, he was giddy and surprised and the rush of emotion was enough to make his tears start to fall again, even as his face broke into the widest smile he’d ever made. 

“No. I didn’t know that, actually.” Albus told him, shakily. Scorpius looked up at him with wide eyes, but he smiled too when he saw Albus’ expression. 

“You—” Scorpius suddenly looked nervous, “you did mean the  _ romantic  _ kind of love, right?” 

Albus was a little dumbfounded. After all that back and forth, Scorpius was still questioning his intentions? There was only one thing for it. Reaching out to softly hold Scorpius’ face between his hands, Albus leant in and kissed the love of his life for the very first time. 

Scorpius’ lips were soft against his own, and the thought “is this what a heart attack feels like” floated into his mind, but almost instantly it was replaced by an internal celebration that would put every New Year’s Eve party in the world combined to shame. Every single cell in his body was zeroed in on the point where their bodies met, and he desperately tried to catalogue and remember every tiny detail, from the gentle pressure and warmth against his lips, to the feel of Scorpius’ hand in his hair. 

And then Scorpius’ tongue darted out of his mouth: a question, an invitation. Albus’ stomach fizzled with nervous anticipation; would Scorpius think him a good kisser? But then Scorpius’ tongue touched his lips again, and it was enough to break Albus’ last defence. Letting his body and desire take over, he deepened the kiss, and it was everything, every incredible sensation more brilliant than the last; it was everything Albus had ever imagined kissing Scorpius would be, plus a thousand extra internal fireworks and more. He knew he’d remember this moment forever, this moment in which it felt like every church bell in the country was chiming in Albus’ joy, and he was feeling happiness like he’d never before experienced. 

_ One week later _

“So we’re just going to go in there, holding hands,” Albus reaffirmed as they walked up to the front door of the Granger-Weasleys’ house for their annual Christmas party. 

“Yep! Don’t say anything, just let them figure it out. Got it!” Scorpius replied, excitement already bubbling in his tone. He’d been to the party many times before, but they’d both agreed it felt a little different, now that he was going as Albus’  _ boyfriend.  _ Albus raised their joined hands, and gave Scorpius’ a quick peck before he pushed open the door, and the usual Weasley cacophony of noise assaulted his ears. 

“HEY! That was  _ my _ purple Quality Street!!!” Lily shouted across the room, and Albus had to dodge out of the way as Freddie almost careered straight into them, and then Scorpius had to dodge because Dominique nearly bowled him over in hot pursuit. The room was chaos, with ‘SO HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS’ blasting out from the stereo and people everywhere. The first time Scorpius had been here, he’d found it a bit much, but once he’d got used to the sheer volume, he’d begged Albus to invite him again. Now, he gave Albus’ hand a squeeze and beamed at him as they took it all in. 

Albus’ mum noticed them, and danced up with baby Nora in her arms. She lifted up her granddaughter’s hand and said “Yay! Uncle Albus and Scorpius are here!” eliciting a delighted giggle from the little girl. 

Albus’ dad approached, holding his hands out to take Nora while saying, “do you guys need drinks? I think Arthur was convincing Ron to open up a bottle of bubbly…” 

Albus’ parents then proceeded to bicker over which of them was ‘hogging the baby,’ so Albus rolled his eyes and dragged Scorpius away in search of the promised drinks. “Do you think they noticed?” he asked. 

Scorpius shrugged. “Neither of them said anything…” 

In the kitchen, Uncle Ron was battling with a corkscrew, while both his parents watched on. Albus greeted his grandparents with kisses to the cheeks, but made sure to keep hold of Scorpius’ hand. Not that anyone mentioned it. 

The same thing happened throughout the evening. Not even Lily or James made a comment about their joined hands, and Albus was beginning to think he was living in a parallel universe. This was big news, and no one had teased him about it, or even acknowledged the drastic development in Albus’ life.

When, after three hours of drinking and his relationship status being totally ignored, Albus planted an actual  _ kiss _ on Scorpius’  _ lips _ and no one reacted, Albus’ frustration with his family reached boiling point. He climbed onto a chair, pulled a very flustered and red faced Scorpius to stand on the one beside it, held his boyfriend’s hand up in the air and yelled, “I’M DATING SCORPIUS!!!” 

The room fell silent, and all eyes fell onto the pair of them. Scorpius tried to tug Albus back down to ground level, but he resisted, looking at each and every member of his family in challenge. 

Then, James pulled out a chair of his own and climbed onto it, Nora carefully tucked against his chest. Teddy stood at the base of the chair, wand out and ready to catch his baby if anything were to happen. James held Nora out, Lion King style, making Grandma Molly screech, and then he shouted, “MY DAUGHTER IS A METAMORPHMAGUS!” and as if she’d understood the words, Nora’s hair flashed to a vivid violet colour. 

Teddy reached out and took the baby from his husband’s arms, rolling his eyes fondly. 

Albus was completely infuriated by James’ random outburst. He always did want to steal every single moment possible. “James! We already know that,” he said grumpily. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious. You know, you’re banging Malfoy, my family have cool shapeshifting abilities…” 

Albus spluttered at his brothers crudeness, while Scorpius said “oh Merlin” and sat down heavily, hiding his beetroot red face behind his hands. 

“No! It’s not obvious!” Albus argued. “We’ve only been boyfriends for a week, you couldn’t possibly have known!” 

Silence descended once more, each face more shocked than the next. The only one still smiling and babbling away was Nora, who was playing with her dad’s hair, which he had lengthened and turned violet to match her own. 

“But, Albus…” his mum ventured, “you live together.” She looked completely bewildered, and that seemed to be a common sentiment across the family. 

“We’re flatmates,” Albus stated; he’d thought that was obvious. 

Albus’ dad scratched the back of his head and said, “we just assumed… you’ve always been private, but, I mean…” he looked like he was struggling to articulate his thoughts. Luckily for him, Lily had no such problem. 

“You’ve clearly been in love with each other since  _ forever.  _ Hey, Al, how does it feel that your  _ entire family  _ knew about your relationship before you did?” she teased, earning a “Lily!” from their mother. 

“Well,” Scorpius said shakily, “at least we know they’re OK with us dating.” 

At this, Grandma Molly bustled over and beckoned them both into her arms. She gave them a big warm hug, which Albus knew would be a touch alarming to Scorpius, but luckily he was smiling. “We’re more than OK with it! It’s so lovely to see Albus so happy.” She pulled away and placed a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. “Welcome to the family, dear.” 

Turning back to the rest of the family, she announced, “Now, I just took a tray of mince pies out of the oven, any takers?” and the dramatic non-reveal of Albus’ relationship was quickly forgotten as lots of Weasleys, a few Potters, a couple of Lupins, and one Malfoy raced to the kitchen. 

As Albus laughed at Scorpius for somehow getting the icing sugar dusting on his nose, he suddenly realised that every Christmas wish he’d made since meeting Scorpius had somehow come true; he’d not only got Scorpius remaining in his life for good, but they’d become closer than ever and for the first time, Albus felt certain that his future,  _ their _ future, looked bright and happy. He planted a kiss right onto the smudge on Scorpius’ nose, then whispered so only his gorgeous boyfriend could hear, “it looks like this will be our best Christmas yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed!!!


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